| On the tide withdrawn she disappeared,
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| back to the deepest sea
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| The shells whisper secretly, she’s the one
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| I’ve waited for a thousand years
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| I feel it in the salted air,
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| in the moon’s moist breath
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| A need to recreate the worlds we once shared
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| Medieval mosques had warmed her then, charcoal blackened her eyes
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| Young, intense, untouchable. |
| Weaving her spiral of desire
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| She had dreams beneath a golden sun,
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| festivals passionate
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| Traded cruelly between hands of men,
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| a possession. |
| Masked, bound and sold
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| I listened to dreams of another life,
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| painted in luscious breath
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| Pescaré a mi amor, con mis dolores
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| Pescaré a mi amor, con mis dolores
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| Beneath the sea is a tower,
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| in the tower there’s a window where she waits
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| It’s a shame she sleeps alone, reach out to me I will come to you
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| In that case let me be a fisherman,
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| I’ll fish for my love with my sorrows
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| «En la mar hay una torre, y en la torre una ventana,
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| y en la ventana hay una niña,
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| que a los marineros ama,
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| y en la ventana hay una niña que a los marineros ama»
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| «Sí la mar se hace leche, yo me hago pescador,
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| pescaré a mis dolores, con palabricas de amor» |